


PotterLock

by JohnWatson12



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Harry Potter References, Johnlock Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:18:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3424214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnWatson12/pseuds/JohnWatson12





	PotterLock

Sherlock takes his first steps into The Great Hall. It's absolutely amazing, even to Sherlock, a talented young wizard who is VERY intelligent. He has been waiting for this day ever since he got his Hogwarts letter. He's also heard in the news that Harry Potter will be attending Hogwarts this year. The boy who lived. Sherlock's heard stories about him, just stories but if they're true that would be simply amazing.

 

Sherlock main skill, is what he calls Deduction. Where he can look at you, like for example your nails and know exactly what you had for breakfast and exactly which instrument you play. Sherlock has come to know that if you deduct, whatever is left must be true. So if only he could see Harry to deduct from him.

 

Suddenly all of the first years stop walking. Professor Mcgonagall is standing beside a stool, on the stool is a lumpy old hat, The Sorting Hat. Sherlock honestly doesn't care which house he gets put into as long as its not Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff's arn't bad, in fact their the nicest students at the school. But that's exactly why Sherlock doesn't want to get sorted into Hufflepuff, because he is the opposite of "nice". 

 

Sherlock is rude, arrogant, and completely unaware of other people's feelings. But above all Sherlock is a genius. He is incredibly intelligent and loves to prove how much he is. Sherlock knows he's smart, and (according to him) everyone else is stupid. He sometimes wonders how the human race has survived this long. Sherlock truly wants to get sorted into Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw's are smart, rude, and exactly the kind of friends he wants.

 

Although the kid he met on the train, (John Watson was it?) wasn't all that bad. But John wasn't a genius, not at all. He definitely seemed like a Hufflepuff, Nice, generous, and caring. (above all, caring.) He was the only one on the train to invite Sherlock to sit with him. They talked the whole way there, cracking jokes, showing of the little amount of spells they knew, and eating chocolate frogs. John was defiantly a very kind person, the first Sherlock had met who didn't irritate him. 

 

Sherlock also met Greg Lestrade. Which he was lead to believe would become a Gryffindor. Now as stupid as Lestrade was, Sherlock enjoyed his company. Lestrade was interesting, he wanted to work in the Department Of Magical Law Enforcement. This topic intrigued Sherlock, for he to wanted to go into this line of work before discovering deductions. 

 

Professor Mcgonagall announced. "Now when I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." 

 

"Abbott, Hannah!" She exclaimed.

 

Hannah nervously walked up to the stool. Clearly (in Sherlocks mind) he knew she would most definatly be a Hufflepuff. And sure enough he was right, for as he was about to yell out his deduction, the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Pff obvious" Sherlock snorted out. 

"How could you tell?", came a voice that sounded so familir. Sherlock looked to his side to find that it was John Watson, from the train. 

 

"Oh hello John."  
"Hello, I'm curious to know how was it obvious?"  
"Because she was obviously a very cheerful and easy going girl."  
"Do you know her?"  
"No"  
"Then how did you know that she is cheerful?"  
"From the way she was skipping."  
"She wasn't skipping."  
"When we got of the train she most obviously skipping, didn't you see her?"  
"That could have been anybody skipping, Sherlock."  
"No it was her, I recognized her by her hair."

"Bones, Susan!"  
"Hufflepuff." Muttered Sherlock.  
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again.

"How do you keep doing that?"  
"Shhh, I'm trying to listen."

"Boot, Terry."  
"Oh, he's a difficult one. But the most diffecult ones belong in...."  
"RAVENCLAW!"

There were several more names called until finally, "Holmes, Sherlock."  
Sherlock walks up to the stool, over confident as ever.

The Sorting hat went on, "Now you Mr. Holmes are quite a difficult one to place..."  
"No I'm not." Sherlock protested.  
"Oh?"  
"Yes it's not that hard."  
"Well you are defiantly confident, so Slytherin could suit you. You are also very brave, so maybe Gryffindor. But you are extremely intelligent, oh yes you've got a big brain up there. So with all that smarts you will definitely be placed in, RAVENCLAW!"

Sherlock couldn't help but stride over to the Ravenclaw table, he was most defiantly pleased.

"Hello." Came a voice from the table.  
"I'm Terry, Terry Boot."  
"Oh yes you were the first one to be sorted into Ravenclaw this year, hello"  
"So your a "genius" He said, quoting The Sorting Hat.  
"Yes I am." Sherlock replied.  
"Well happy to make your acquaintance."  
"You too."

Sherlock got so caught up in going over spells, potions, and monsters with Terry that he had almost forgotten Harry Potter until he heard the name.

"Potter, Harry!"

As Sherlock watched Harry walk up to The Hat, he heard hundreds of whispers around The Great Hall, he was about to yell at them all to shut up, but decided against it.

The hat dropped over his eyes, clearly they didn't make it a good size to fit first years. when suddenly The Hat began to speak, "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting . . . . So where shall I put you?"

Sherlock could see that Harry was gripping his chair and muttering something, Sherlock could quite make it out, until the hat spoke again.

"Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that-no? Well if your sure - better be GRYFFINDOR!"

There were only five students left to be sorted, "Thomas, Dean" went to Gryffindor, "Turpin, Lisa" Joined Sherlock at Ravenclaw Then there was "Watson, John" the kid from the train, the one who had asked him how he knew which houses students where going to be sorted in. The hat was placed on his head and after a few moments The Sorting Hat exclaimed, "HUFFLEPUFF!" "Weasley, Ron" was chosen to Gryffindor and there was one more, a "Zabini, Blaise" went to Slytherin.

Albus Dumbledore (the head master) had just stood up, lifted his arms and said, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" "Thank you!" He sat down as everybody clapped and cheered. He was quite odd, Albus Dumbledore but at the same time a genius. Sherlock had no idea what those words meant, but at the moment he didn't care. The table had just been magically filled with a glorious feast! Sherlock grabbed a roll and a scoopful of potatoes. 

"That's all your going to eat?" Came Terry's voice.  
"I'm not that hungry."  
"You must be joking! I'm starving!"  
"I'm never really hungry. Eating, digesting, it just slows my brain down."  
"Your weird."  
"Thanks..." Sherlock replied sarcastically.  
"No I didn't mean it like that...."  
"Oh you mean weird in the nice way? Look I really don't care what you call me."

Terry didn't talk for a while, until desserts finally appeared on the table, and Dumbledore got up to speak again. 

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term....." Blah blah blah, boring, boring, boring. "And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who's does wish to die a most painful death."

Now that got Sherlock's mind running, a most painful death? What could be on the third-floor corridor that was so awful? Sherlock had no idea, but he knew one thing, he was going to get to the bottom of this.

TO BE CONTINUED..................


End file.
